


parasitic, commensalistic, or mutualistic

by kerrykins (orphan_account)



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-06 17:19:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18392867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/kerrykins
Summary: Andy Sachs is an investigative journalist with a knack for getting herself into crazy situations. Just when she thinks her life can't get any worse, something (or rather someone) enters the mix.Just two ladies thrown into the world of Venom (2018).





	1. There Go The Tater Tots! (Among Other Things)

**Author's Note:**

> i'm really not sure if i want to continue this or not? if so, i'll have to add some chapters before this one, as well as make this one longer. tell me your thoughts?? any criticism/comments are greatly appreciated <3

“Fuck!”

 

Andy watched helplessly as the scorched tater tots fell to the floor, the metal tray flying across the room.

 

“Well, that was real fucking mature of you, huh?” She glared around the room, which was empty except for her.

 

_It’s not like you were being very mature yourself, Andrea._

 

Andy grimaced. Jesus, she never was going to get used to that voice.

 

“Andy. It’s Andy. Everyone calls me that.”

 

_I am not ‘everyone.’ And what does it say on your passport? Your driving license? ‘Andrea.’ I see no reason to shorten your name._

 

Andy sighed. “Okay. But what’s your name?” There was silence. “Hello?”

 

_I believe a good translation would be Miranda. That is a name humans use, correct?_

 

“Yeah.” Andy tested the name out. “Miranda. It’s a pretty name, too. I think it suits you well.”

 

_Good._

 

That one word was seared into Andy’s mind, causing a splitting headache. She pressed a hand to her temples, trying to ground herself. “Could you, I don’t know, not be so loud? It’s a little painful.”

 

_I see. Is this better?_

 

Her voice was lowered to a smooth, cool cadence. Still in a state of mild hysteria, Andy dumbly thought it sounded like a glass of ice water. “Yeah, that works. Sort of nice, actually.” Miranda said nothing. “So, food. What do you eat?”

 

_Many things. I suppose I don’t have the luxury of being picky._

 

Andy walked over to the fridge and swung the door open, assessing their options. “Uhh, how would you feel about chocolate?” She stared at the lone package of Snickers bars. Her other options were mayonnaise, ketchup, or dill pickles. The frozen tater tots had pretty much been her last hope.

 

_It’s worth a try. We’re going to buy more food tomorrow._

 

Of course she’d come to that decision on her own. “Can’t,” Andy said. “I have to get to the bottom of this story, remember? The one about you and all your parasitic friends, who’ve been killing people left and right.”

 

**_Don’t call me a parasite._ **

 

Miranda’s voice had risen back to its previous register, and without warning, Andy found herself slammed against the floor.

 

“That’s what you are, though!” With an indignant cry, she was flung into the wall.

 

_This is a mutually beneficial relationship. Stop acting like a child._

 

If Miranda had a face, she’d probably have said that through gritted teeth. Andy groaned and pulled herself into an upright position, sparing the crushed wall behind her a sidelong glance.

 

“Bitch. You ruined my wall.” Her back twinged painfully. “And my body. You do know that you probably shouldn’t be trying to kill your host, right? Like hey, you could waltz out of here whenever you want, but I don’t think you want to go host-hunting in Wall Street.”

 

_Firstly, yes, I’m quite aware of that. You humans are fragile, but with my aid, you’re slightly more durable than you are naturally. Secondly, I can’t come and go as I please. You’re far too good of a match for me to leave or kill you yet._

 

Andy frowned at this. That... was not what she had been expecting. “Huh,” was all she could think to say.

 

There was an urgent knock on her door.

 

_Don’t answer it._

 

Andy answered it. A swarm of men with guns poured into her apartment, surrounding her on all fronts. Her heart thundering, she raised her arms in surrender.

 

_Andrea, what in God’s name are you doing? You’re making us look bad._

 

Her arms forced themselves down by her sides. “Am not.” Andy defiantly raised her hands back up.

 

_Yes, you are._

 

Andy tried again, but her arms weren’t budging this time.

 

_I’ll handle this myself._

 

Andy watched in horror as her arm went limp. “What the-”

 

Then a blast of silver tar(?) shot out her arm, knocking one of the men out the window of her apartment. Holy. Fucking. Shit.


	2. God Is An Alien And Her Name Is Miranda

Another man charged forward, but Miranda knocked him over with a deft blow to his legs. His gun went flying into the air, and hit one of the other shooters in the face, causing him to stumble back.

 

“Sorry,” Andy said, as Miranda made a fist and punched him through the wall. Two of them were trying to attack her from behind, but when Andy turned around, Miranda reached out and grabbed one by the ankle, using him to beat back the other one.

 

When a man lunged at them with a knife, Miranda’s arm slithered around his throat, choking him, and then tossed him aside like a ragdoll. Andy made a weird kind of squeaking noise when she realised that they were all either dead or unconscious.

 

_ Outstanding. _ Miranda sounded almost reverent.  _ Now, let’s bite their heads off and put them into piles. _

 

Andy’s mouth fell open. “W-what?”

 

_ One pile of bodies, one pile of heads. Really, Andrea, is it really that difficult to understand? _

 

“Um.” Andy wrinkled her nose. “I don’t want to bite off any heads.”

 

_ Hm. Like it or not, you will eventually. _

 

Miranda sounded awfully sure of herself, which was troubling on so many levels. Andy doubted that human heads tasted very good.

 

“Freeze!” A new squad of men broke down her apartment door and circled around them.

 

Miranda scoffed.  _ Oh, please. Who the hell do they think they are? _

 

Out of some subconscious sense of self-preservation, Andy ran. As fast as she could, leaping down the staircase, taking six steps at a time.

 

_ I’m upset that I didn’t think of that. Why didn’t I think of that? _

 

Andy snorted, and landed ungracefully at the bottom of the staircase with a thud. “Because you were more focused on biting everyone’s heads off and organising them by dismembered body parts.”

 

_ You bring up an interesting point. _

 

Andy hopped onto her motorcycle, and revved it up. Behind her, she could hear the angry shouts of the shooters. “Not gonna lie,” Andy began. She sped off, her hair ripping behind her as she weaved between all the cars. “I feel a little flattered that they’re going to such lengths to kill us. Like that’s kind of a testimony to how kickass we are, huh?”

 

_ Don’t flatter yourself. It’s unbecoming. _

 

In spite of that, Andy grinned. “Sure, Miranda.” There was the sound of rubber skidding against asphalt, and the screech of metal. “That didn’t sound very good.”

 

_ Thank you for that clever observation, Andrea. Since you’ve proved yourself to be not only a coward, a poor fighter, but a horrible driver as well, I’ll be taking over now. _

 

“Oh, for fuck’s-” Silver goop rushed out over her hands, cooling as it solidified.

 

_ Brace yourself. _

 

The motorcycle suddenly accelerated, and Andy screamed as Miranda swerved. “Oh god, oh god, oh god! We’re going to die!”

 

_ Stop yelling, I can’t concentrate. _

 

“Fuck!” Andy yelled at the night sky. She wasn’t sure if she’d meant to say “fuck me” or “fuck you, Miranda” or “fuck this,” but it didn’t really matter. 

 

Her leg grazed the surface of a car as they sped by it, and she winced in pain. It felt like she’d been burnt. “Shit, that hurts.” Miranda, of course, did not apologise nor acknowledge she had spoken. Typical.

 

They were hurtling toward a busy intersection, with cars whizzing in every direction. They also weren’t slowing down at all. “Jesus fucking Christ, hit the brakes.” Andy tried to dislodge her hands from the handlebars, but her efforts were fruitless.

 

_ Our goddamn lives are at stake, and you want me to hit the brakes? _

 

“Well, we’re not exactly doing too hot right now either.” Andy slammed down on the brake pedals, which brought them to a skidding stop.

 

_ You’re extraordinarily stupid. _

 

Andy ignored her. Something swiped at her hair, and she instinctively ducked. What the everloving fuck was that?

 

Miranda’s disembodied voice was oddly grim.  _ This is why we shouldn’t have stopped. _

 

Andy snuck a glance behind them, and gasped audibly. A whole-- what do you call a group of drones?-- herd of drones were trailing behind them. They glinted phosphorous blue and silver.

 

“C-can you get rid of those?”

 

_ Andrea, I’m driving right now. Why don’t you go make yourself useful and fend them off yourself? _

 

“No, you’re not driving.” The engine roared back to life, and they sped off again.

 

_ Now I am. _

 

Andy very much wanted to scream, at literally everyone and everything. Then there was an explosion of white light, one that sent sparks in the air, made Andy’s head buzz, and her hair stand on end. Those weren’t drones. They were bombs.

 

Another one went off, sending off a blast that propelled them further. The motorcycle was launched into the air and came crashing back down onto the road with an unpleasant groan.

 

“What the fuck is their damage?” Andy managed to shout above the commotion.

 

_ They’re flares. My species cannot withstand high sound frequencies without experiencing pain. This is a deliberate move on their part. _

 

“Are,” Andy swallowed, the harsh, cold air stinging her throat. “Are you in pain right now?”

 

Miranda went very quiet.  _ Yes. _

 

Andy bit her bottom lip, staring out at the buildings they passed, simplified blurs of grey and red light. “I’m sorry.”

 

_ We’ll be fine. _

 

Another flare went off right behind them, with a high-pitched whistling noise that made Andy shake violently. God... why did she feel sick all of a sudden? Her forehead was burning up and she was sweating up a storm.

 

_ I’m- _ Miranda’s voice trembled a bit, and Andy felt her breath catch.

 

“Hold on, Miranda,” Andy said gently. “I promise I’ll get us out of here, just sit back.”

 

_ Hh. All right. _

 

The tar encasing her hands receded back up her sleeve, and Andy exhaled before revving the engine. Here they go.

 

She tilted the rearview mirror with a hand. Only one more of those fuckers left. Andy turned sharply, and watched as the drone collided with a car, sending it up in a tower of blue-white flame. It rolled onto the sidewalk, and Andy let out a sigh of relief as one of the black cars following them blew up along with it.

 

_ Well done. _ Miranda’s voice was stronger now.

 

Andy couldn’t help but smile at this. “Hell yeah. I got your back, girl.”

 

_ As do I. _ She sounded almost... affectionate. Then her voice hardened. _ We’re still not safe. Five cars left. _

This time, Andy was content to let her take over. As they drove along, Andy found herself relaxing a bit, since they didn’t have to worry about the drones now. The city was pretty at night, she thought. Stars twinkled off in the distance, and the lamp posts lining the streets glowed with warm, yellow light.

 

_ It’s almost peaceful. _

 

Andy jumped a little at her voice, then blinked. “Yeah. Is it like this, where you’re from?” She didn’t know what compelled her to ask. She didn’t think Miranda was going to answer, anyways.

 

_ No, nothing like this. I don’t know how to describe it. Different, I suppose. _

 

“Oh. Good different or bad different?” Andy gave the rearview mirror a quick glance. No sign of the cars now.

 

_ I’m not really sure.  _ Miranda sounded apprehensive.  _ It’s a feeling. I could describe your world with words. Loud, crowded, dirty, noisy, populated by flimsy bags of flesh that are unknowingly destroying their own planet. _

 

Andy rolled her eyes, but stayed silent.

 

_ We don’t live, at least not like you do. We simply... exist, which is very different than living. Living is with a sense of purpose, for some kind of goal where your objective isn’t something material. I don’t know what it is. I’m not human, after all.  _

 

Andy shut her eyes. The wind was cool on her face. “I-”

 

A car came crashing down behind them, and Miranda snapped back into action.

 

Andy groaned internally and ducked as gunfire sounded above them. They must have pretty shitty aim, to completely miss her. Thank God.

 

They swerved around a lampost, and Miranda shot out another blast of tar to grip it, sending them flying the opposite direction.

 

Andy whooped, her heart soaring exhilaratingly. Then she saw that they were approaching a sizeable speed bump, and her joy quickly turned to panic. “Look out!”

 

_ Oh. _

 

Andy was promptly launched into the air, her limbs flailing as she yelled. She was quickly pulled back down to the still-moving motorcycle with a sticky, silver tendril, crashing down onto it forcefully. “I think my legs are broken,” Andy remarked, then burst into a delirious fit of laughter. “That was sick as shit, though, holy fuck.”

 

_ You’re welcome. _

 

Then a car rammed against the back of the motorcycle, making Andy airborne once more. She fell onto the asphalt with an unpleasant crunch. Something definitely broke that time. She tried to pull herself upright, but her body was unwilling.

 

_ Get up. For God’s sake, get up.  _ Her words were just as caustic as they always were, but Andy detected a faint undercurrent of anxiety.

 

The cars screeched to a stop, guns pointed at them from every direction.

 

Andy still couldn’t move. “For what it’s worth,” she began. “We made a pretty great team.” When Miranda said nothing, she kept going. “And I’m sorry that you won’t be able to get back home, or ever figure out what humans live for, or get to bite some guy’s head off.”

 

_ No. We’re going to do all those things, together. _

 

Andy watched as that metallic fluid filled the scrapes on her legs, straightening her limbs with a small crack, and eventually consumed her in a warm, mushy cocoon.

 

_ We’re not only going to bite all their heads off, we’re going to swallow every last one alive, so we can revel in their screams as they slide down our throat. _

 

“Oh,” Andy said, as they took one steady step forward. “Sounds like a plan?”

 

Everything was a blur. It felt like Andy had just drank like, a million lattes, and every soldier piling on top of them was about as formidable as an ant. They completely pulverised all of the men, stepping on them, tossing them, sending them spiralling away with a mere flick of their claws. Andy was snapped out of her dream-like trance when Miranda swallowed the first shooter.

 

It was chewy, salty, and Andy wanted to spit it out, but her mouth was unyielding.

 

_ I’m starving. My other choices are taking a bite out of your liver or slaughtering the next person we encounter. _

 

“Okay, okay,” Andy said fervently, because she very much appreciated her organs, and it would be highly inconvenient for the both of them if Miranda gobbled them up like Welch fruit snacks.

 

Once Miranda was done with, uh, dinner, a police squad car pulled up, shooting at them. “Get your hands up in the air where I can see them!”

 

“Nah, I’m good,” Andy replied with a shake of her head, and they fell backwards into the ocean. “Bye.” She flashed them a peace sign before they plunged into the dark depths of the water, the bullets hitting the water in small bursts of bubbles.


End file.
